Set Fire to the Third Bar
by BabyBlueEyes23
Summary: "In some indefinable way he felt drawn to her, as if he already knew her, as if they had been close friends, soulmates even, somewhere in a previous existence." Tabitha Suzuma. Percy and Annabeth's souls find one another numerous times over millenias, and across thousands of miles apart. Will they ever find peace in one lifetime together, or will they always be mere inches apart.
1. Eyes Open

Part I: Eyes Open

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"In some indefinable way he felt drawn to her, as if he already knew her, as if they had been close friends, soulmates even, somewhere in a previous existence." ." ― Tabitha Suzuma, Hurt

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The hush of night blankets the minuscule nook, sculpting a sense of fragility and stillness. The brilliant moon sits on the focal point of the indigo, desert skyline, permeating it's light against the shadows which pan across the wide expanse of the never ending piles of sand, and the hidden crooks of magnificent buildings and stupendous statues, , creating an enticing dance between righteousness and depravity…A battle between morals and deviance.

Placed promptly between the feuding ideologies, stands a girl, no older than sixteen years of age. She is a sight of beauty, with wide orbs of smokey-grey, and long locks of golden twisted elegantly into a braid resting atop her left shoulder. The miniature flame sparking from the candle that she clenches with tight fists, creates a halo which seemingly perches on the crown of her head.

The tan skinned girl's attention lies on the few creatures roaming the dry grounds of the haunting desert, from which the grand kingdom arose, seemingly from thin air. The sight causes the young woman to yearn for the enchanting forests, and inclement nights of which composes her home city of Athens.

Lost in memories of home, and attempting to rid her worries over focussing on the seclusion and dark depths which surround her, The blonde reminisces of stories her father had once regaled to her in her youth. Astounding tales of courageous warriors and palaces of far away lands. Each individual narrative bringing with it a sense of hope, and promise, something that a girl her age had clung onto unyieldingly, yet unexposed to the harsh savagery and brutality that life can present.

Her revery is soon halted by the pitter pat of footsteps intruding upon the silence shrouding the glorious kingdom.

With a sharp inhale, and quick prayer to all the gods above, the young woman turns with caution. She is met with a striking boy. One with glimmering irises which can only be justified by comparison with the sea which parts their two lands, and a grin splayed across his features which can entrance the coldest of persons.

"Annabeth," he exhales gleefully, prior to shearing the last few yards separating them with a sprint. Without thought, he cups her cheeks into his open palms, and presses a feverish kiss against her lips, hard and salty, dancing against soft and plump.

"Perseus," Annabeth chuckles between each peck of the lips. "What's gotten over you."

"I've missed you," he states matter of factly, as his forehead presses against hers. "Must there be any other reason?"

"It's only been a day sense our last meeting," she reminds him, a smirk toying with the edges of her lips.

"A day is to long," he declares playfully. "I'd much prefer to spend all my days with you, without a moment in-between to spare."

A warm grin melts into her delicate features, her gaze enjoying the way the moonlight above traces his handsome face romantically. Between the captivating glimmer twinkling his irises of green, and the flare which captures any onlookers breath, Annabeth once again realizes he reasoning why even the people of her own land title him the beloved.

"How long do you suppose we have for tonights assignation," Perseus questions while folding his strong hand over her dainty one.

"Well I told my father that I went off to complete some readings of scrolls, and to prey to our patron goddess of Athena." Annabeth informs him. "I would estimate he wouldn't expect me back for hours."

"And our platoon doesn't take off until daybreak," he intones with an expression of unadulterated euphoria, He begins to lean downwards so to share another amorous moment. Though, the young man pauses at the slight stiffening of the beauty. "What troubles you?" He inquires with raised brows, and the depression of his lips.

"Nothing," she waves off his worries. "I'm fine, truly."

"Wise Girl," the ebony haired boy gives a role of the eyes towards the blonde, as he leads her to sit besides him upon a particularly large slab of stone lying near where they stand. "Speak to me."

"I'm fine," she continues to insist without a second thought, though once her eyes lock onto his, she concedes, never having been able to keep a thing from him. "I just worry over what you are gearing up to do." She discloses.

"Do you mean leading the expedition between our peoples meeting at Marathon tonight for an attempt of peace?" Perseus questions.

"Precisely," Annabeth nods. "It feels ominous somehow."

"Why?" the olive skinned boy queries cautiously. "Do you know of any plan to betray the grounds of the treaty?" Despite his love for the enchantress before him, Perseus is yet a king in training, and a loyal one at that. He would protect his people by all costs, even if it means questioning the blonde.

"No! No!" Annabeth shakes her head frantically, so to dissolve any question that she is aware of any sort of falsehood by her land. "It is merely a feeling…Everything is going to well at the moment. I don't deserve this much happiness."

"Whatever do you mean Annabeth?" Perseus scoffs, insulted as if she and spat in his face.

"Perseus, you are the soon to be king of the most powerful land that has ever stood, and I am simply the daughter of a diplomat, whom is betrothed to another. And it isn't as if the gods above are some sort of conclave of benevolent beings…I just fear that none of this will stand for very long." She divulges with a shaking breath.

With shut lids, and a pinching to his lips, the sable haired boy gives a shaking of the head towards the girl.

"You are far to much Annabeth, are you aware of that?"

"It has been mentioned," she brissels.

A playful snicker tumbles from his lips, as Perseus grants a reassuring squeeze of the hand to the blonde.

"Do you love me?" He inquiries with a craned brow.

"I always have, and I always will," Annabeth responds without effort. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well I love you to," he assures despite it being unneeded. "So I swear to you, with an oath that I will keep until my final breath, you and I will stand for decades after today. And centuries from now, their will be stories told of the jointing of the greatest kingdoms, all due to the engagement of a young Persian prince, and lowly girl from Athens."

Annabeth grants the boy a smacking of the arm,.

"Are you aware to how amusing you are?" She snipes with a twist of her lips.

"Just attempting to match your insanity," he explains with a lopsided grin. "Now, may you quit your unnecessary worries, and permit me to kiss you once more." He pleads.

"Only because your leaving for a voyage tomorrow," Annabeth sighs mockingly as she inclines her head with a brilliant grin.

 **~0~**

The passing week is comprised of Annabeth attempting to carry on with her daily duties, while simultaneously attempting not to go mad worrying over the young prince. An act that she has found to being quite impossible.

It was the final day of his mission, and Perseus would be returning to her today.

The young woman had been in the midst of printing a letter addressed to him, describing her longing to fold into his arms once more, when the incident had occurred.

The front door of the spacious home had been knocked down by a guardsmen, whom had immediately taken grasp of one of her dainty arms, as two others crossed the threshold in search of her father.

No matter the curses or shouts she had directed towards the brute man, he had not loosened his grip in the slightest, he had increased it's intensity if anything else. Eventually, the young woman had reasoned that keeping quiet would benefit her plenty more, than allowing her frustrations to bubble out.

She soon discovers that the Greeks had planted a trap at Marathon, killing thousands upon thousands of Persian warriors. The news of the act had reached the kingdom today, and forth with to his hearing of what had played out, the king went after the Greek dip diplomats, under the suspicion of treason. It was not until later that day when Annabeth had caught the setncing of she and her father as treason leading to the death of the heir to the Persian throne.

Instantly, his handsome face flashed through her thoughts. Every I love you they had shared. Every rendezvous they had snuck away to in the depth of the night. And the damned oath he had sworn to her a mere week prior. It had all become to much, and Annabeth had found herself dissolving into a mess of tearers and sobs.

The onlookers had snarled at the sight, assuming the act to being a performance so to swindle from the ruling of death. None are aware to the devotion and eternal love she had shared with the man they had proclaimed as the successor of their land.

Standing where she would be put to death, the final words Annabeth had uttered were a curse directed to the boy she had loved more than life it's self.

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A/N: Thank you soon much for reading33 I really hope to hear from you soon :)


	2. That Would Be Enough

**To The Third Bar**

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 **Part II**

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.. The shafts of the early morning light filters through the tuffs of cotton which swim in the wide expanse of the azure skyline.

The boy sits obediently upon a stool, watching as the patrons of the exuberant festivity, promenade across the lush greens of the prestigious grounds of the grand church. They seem to glide in that ever so extinguished way that all rich folks do. A manner which alludes to a life of effortless ease, an existence in which one's greatest peril is the deciding upon what to garnish themselves in for the next day's activities.

The ebony haired boy suspects that he knows precisely of what they think when glancing in his direction. A child with a face void of prestige, and the pungent stench of new money cloaking his very being.

Percy wonders whether his father's new found fortune was truly worth the judgmental glances these strangers of old money, and surreptitious secrets, seem to be searing into his form. Though, prior to his thoughts straying to deep within the recollections of his family's minuscule cottage on the edge of Cardiff, and frolicking through his mother's gardens while becoming lost in the ebullient laughter of childhood, he catches the calling of his name.

"Perseus!"

With a start, the boy turns to find the only bright spec in his new life.

"Hello Grover," he grins at the timid boy. Being the son of a servant, Grover was permitted to attend these excruciating gatherings of the opulent. However, it would not take a second glance to determine that he is painfully out of place.

With the combination of his sickly pale form, and perpetually messy state of his brunette curls, the gaunt boy always appeared younger than his true fourteen years of age. Nor did his walking impairment, which had resulted from a difficulty at birth, assist in his attempting to assimilate seamlessly in the crowd.

"You are aware that you appear as if a complete recluse, correct?" Grover smiles in greeting, one which lights the entirety of his round face.

"I swear to you Mr. Underwood, I would agree with you if only I had the slightest idea to what in hades name to what a recluse is." Percy grins, the yearning of escaping this place subsiding, if only slightly, at the sight of his friend.

"Well come along," Grover chuckles with an exasperated sort of fondness. "I've snatched away some treats with assistance from my father. Though I find myself worrisome that Ms. La Rue will locate them once more, and enjoy their pleasantries for herself. Just like the previous week."

"That arse would revel in that opportunity," Percy concurs as he stands and follows Grover to the alcove he had deemed secure enough to tuck away the sweets.

Once they arrive to the recess of the extensive field, Percy finds himself tripping over empty space.

Standing before the hallow of the massive oak tree, is a girl. One composed of all long limbs, and untamed ringlets which spark of golden beneath the vivid beams of sunlight. She stands with an air of regality molded into her slender frame, and a hubris, which no twelve year old should have the humility to wear, sculpted into her beautiful countenance.

"Truly Mr. Underwood," She scoffs, waving around the dulcet dessert in her right hand as if it were a stick intended for scolding. "You should have been a tad more weary of where you hide your treats. Don't you think? I had to fend off Ms. La Rue all by my lonesome, and you know how that one can get. do you not?"

"My apologies Annabeth," Grover mutters abashedly. As if he was accustomed to the admonishment by the girl who Percy suspects is as slight as a bird.

"No need," she huffs with a tad to much emphasis. "I'll accept a quantum of your indulgence for you and your friend, as repayment.

It's the first time that she even indicates being aware of Percy's Presence.

"Oh that's right, you do not know Mr. Jackson." Grover perks as he quickly makes their acquaintance.

"Jackson is it," Annabeth ponders as she pulls away from the hand she had insisted upon shaking. The question brings the slightest wrinkling to her all too beauteous features.

"Ah, yes…Is that a problem?" Percy mutters meekly, yet unnerved in the way people seem to know his surname, as if now that his family owned a sizable amount of wealth, and property, it mattered to complete strangers to know of their every waking movement.

"Your father spoke directly against my mother in public, and then proceeded to rival her in his business pursuits…Did you know that Mr. Jackson?"

"Ah…No I did not. I don't wish to entangle myself with my parents professional affairs Mis. Chase." He informs her.

"Oh Mr. Jackson," she clicks her words, as if reprimanding a small child. "Knowledge is the most vital weapon that any of us can wield. And to so carelessly disregard it's all encompassing force, merely to maintain the presence of your Courtesies, is foolish at best."

Percy did not wish to inquire what it was at worst.

The next time he encounters Annabeth Chase, it is months subsequent, at one of the galas he despises ever so greatly. Though this one in particular holds an iota of importance, due to it being the celebration for the unification of one Lorde Zoos Grace's railroad corporation and Percy's father's, Poseidon Jackson's, shipping ports, and the immeasurable success that will come about.

However, rather than standing there, in the midst of over priced diamonds hanging dangerously off women's ears, and the aimless chatter of the latest gossip being transferred from one source to another, Percy and a handful of the youths whom had come in attendance, had located a small nook in the endless hallway of the Labyrinth, which is a hotel that is not unfamiliar when the plutocracy hold one of their countless soirees, to hide away.

"Did you lot hear that Silena Beauregard's parents wish to join the efforts of the revolution?" Annabeth inquires smugly, and Percy was beginning to realize that her affinity for knowledge must also be due in part of how powerful it may feel to have all the answers, and watching as others implore to be granted a scrap of her wisdom.

"Truly?" A girl with flaming locks as vivid as the first light of dawn braking into the horizon, marvels. Percy has come to know her name as Rachel Elizabeth Dare. One as eccentric as the color toning her hair, and more understanding than any can ever expect. She had been one of his earliest friends when he had first been introduced to the world of falsehoods and scandals that he has now been engraved into. When first meeting Percy, she had cited to him that due to her Irish heritage, she might as well be an oozing boil on the oh so elegant foot of the elitist circle. from that moment onwardsPercy knew he would very much enjoy the company of Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

"What a romantic prospect," A slight girl, with the features Percy had always associated belonging to the legends of the Fay that his mother had told him in his juvenescence, swoons. "To go off and fight for honor, and independence in the colonies."

Grover nods enthusiastically towards the girl, a grin splitting across his round face. an act which only cements Percy's suspicions of his friend's fondness towards Juniper.

"Mr. Castellan has told me of his intrigue of joining their forces." A flush creeps onto Annabeth's cheeks as she speaks of Luke Castellan, further exposing of her more than amiable devotions towards the blonde.

Percy gives a roll of his eyes towards the group as a whole. They have all resolved into unadulterated admiration of the boy that Percy had only been introduced to for a short while, weeks prior. From Percy's impression, Luke Castellan was not anything out of the ordinary.

A handsome enough git, with a congenial smile, and neatly trimmed sandy locks. The quintessential heir to a Lorde and all his fortunes.

Post hearing another declaration of just how terribly brave _Mr. Castellan must be, Percy could no longer keep his mouth shut._

 _"I must admit that Mr. Castellan sounds no more than a pitiful trader." He informs to no one in particular._

 _As if he had just declared his untamable lust for his pet lab, Mrs. O'Leary,_ the entirety of the cluster falls into a palpable hush.

"Leave it to a peasant to be so utterly close minded," Annabeth scoffs with a cold sort of aura. Though rather than lashing against Percy's resolve, Grover flinches back, ever reminded of his lower status, as if a burning ember continuously pressed to his forearm.

"Oh Grover-"

"No, I'm fine." Grover quickly waves off Annabeth's words as he scrambles to his feet. "I best go locate my father, and offer some assistance."

Before anyone could even comprehend his words to protest, the young man wobbles off towards his destination.

"How very classy of you Ms. Chase," Percy spits with a snarl, disgusted how a simple word could so profoundly effect his dearest companion.

"Oh don't you dare attempt to turn this on to me you undignified scoundrel!" The golden haired girl barks. "I and everyone in this room knows how fond I am of Mr. Underwood, as if he were my own brother. It is your blatant disregard which has created such a mess!"

"Disregard?" Percy scoffs. "Of what? Your unquestioning adoration of a boy whom been bestowed everything he could want sense childhood. But now desires to join the strifes of a people whom found a hunger to part from the grips of a kingdom that has done nothing but strangle their prosperity, simply due to his boredom for this particular week."

"Bite your tongue," Annabeth spits. And Percy thinks it is the closest that she has ever come to cursing in public, less she damages her ever so refined reputation. "Don't you dare act as if you know the first thing of mr. Castellan, or any of us for that matter. You are nothing more than a pathetic peasant, whom yearns to penetrate a world he could only dream of ever being part of."

At this point, Percy can feel his blood boiling, and a unkempt fury illuminating his emeralds of green. "I would not wish to be part of this world of counterfeit sincerity and hallow words if you were to grant me all the riches of the seven seas," he spews with more than a bit of contempt.

Without another utterance shot into the minuscule room, he turns in a flurry, and saunters off to find Grover.

Percy sits upon a bench of the spacious school building, situated before the grande outlook of London's ever exuberant ambiance, despite it's weather, which ordinarily leaves plenty to be desired.

The day was awash with despondency, woven together by the drizzle of rain droplets pounding against the pavement, and the fog of early spring. While most complain of the desolation, which seems to be continuously weaved into London's exterior,, Percy finds the dreadful gloom, an odd sort of comfort. A constant in a time of turbulent changes.

Despite himself, Percy had taken into account that pompous blonde's words, and has found himself over hearing conversations that he is well aware does not concern him, despite his nearing fifteen years of age with each passing day. In only a little over year's time he would be considered a man, and would be entitled to being aware to what tumultuous hits his beloved country is facing. Although, with the news of colonists spilling over tuns of British Tea, and he rumblings of a war, Percy was not sure he desires the title of manhood quite yet.

"You truly are terrible at calligraphy, are you not?"

With a start, Percy's contemplations of the current state of his country, are put to a immediate halt. His hand falters, resulting in a thick line of ink marring the page he was writing upon.

"And you are quite bothersome, are you not?" Percy snipes as he puts down his ruined school work, and finds Annabeth Chase of all people standing before him.

"I'm partial to disagreeing in all honesty," she counters with all the emotion one would give while exchanging pleasantries.

Already fatigued from the long day's work, Percy shifts a glower towards her. "Ms. Chase is there a particular reason to why you have bestowed to me your delightful presence, or do you intentionally sought out a dispute?" His words are clicked and petulant, she being one of the few people to bring out this particular front of his personality. Percy suspect it having to do with her pretentious mindset of being set upon a pedestal, far above the commoners infesting the streets, merely due to her being born into an existence of luxury.

Percy thought that he caught the slightest flinching to her features, but immediately waves it off to being a trick of the light once she assumes a seat besides him. "I came to apologize for our falling out all those weeks ago at your father's gala." She admits in as small of a voice as Percy has ever heard utilized by the pale haired girl.

"Please correct me if I am wrong Mis. Chase, but do you not suppose that there should have been some sort of foundation of a friendship, for us to experiencing a fall out?" Percy does not intend to make the apology easy on the blonde, the insults she had spoken were repugnant, and he wishes to know without a splinter of uncertainty, that her words of sorry are true.

Her lips twist menacingly, and Percy is surprised to find himself amused by the irritation gleaming in her striking grey skies. "Truly Mr. Jackson, Grover accepted my apologies as quickly as I had spoken them. Why must you insist on acting so churlish."

"Why must you insist on acting so awful," he stands from the bench he had been lounging upon. "You seem to forget that you and Mr. Underwood were friends long before your insensitive slurs. Though you ad I barely know one another's names, and you seem to despise me."

"That's untrue," she insists while shifting her weight to her left hip, having stood up to face Percy eye to eye.

"Oh it is," Percy ensures with a jibing manner that he is positive infuriates the heiress. "And I can only think it is ought to do with our familial rivalry."

"And what if it were?" She questions not unkindly. "Is it truly wrong to be so loyal to one's own name, _ones own blood_."

"Yes, it is if the dispute is one of risibility." Percy clarifies with a simple shrug of the shoulder.

"You speak with such conviction mr. Jackson," she intones. "Tell me, how is it that you can determine which dispute is foolish, or worthy of anger?"

Percy finds himself unnerved by being the soul point of interest of her attention. And he swears that somewhere, in a previous existence, she must have been a queen of sorts. A haunting enchantress, who had commanded respect by the simple lifting of her chin, and invocation of the words.

"In truth Mis. Chase I do not believe that there is a true criteria to determine such a thing," Percy admits while running a hand through his ebony locks. "Though I am firm in the belief that I do not wish to continue this contention between us, simply due to whatever our parents have found themselves fighting against. "

A beat of silence passes before Percy forces himself to stray his gaze upwards, bracing himself for her features to be contorted into an expression of disgust, or an acute knowledge of his apparent ignorance.

Befuddlement is the last expression Percy expected to finding etched in the pinching of her lips, and furrowing of her brows.

"Perhaps Mr. Jackson," she mutters impassively. "Just perhaps your words hold true."

A thousand queries ache to spill from Percy's mouth at the sudden development. Questions of why she had come to him now to apologize, rather than immediately afterwards. Or what precisely had transpired between their parents, and why she had despised him so greatly for it.

However, he spoke neither.

"Shall I escort you to your classroom Mis. Chase?"

With a craning to her manicured brows, and bemused curving of her plump lips, she nods, and Percy thinks that perhaps Annabeth craves to understand him, as much as he does her.

"Yes, I believe I would very much appreciate that Perseus."

That short stroll through the corridors, had paved a path to a relationship neither expected to cultivate, one which bewildered onlookers as much as it did them.

One composed of splendid peals of laughter, and losing themselves within their own slice of eternity. A sanctuary where he begun his sentences, and she completed them. Where she shut her lids,and he succumbed to slumber. A relationship so intimately tender, that neither allowed another soul to even dare penetrate it's bliss.

"You do realize that Mr. Di Angelo is quite fond of you. Do you not?" The beauty takes a seat besides Percy in the ornate library of the church, a novel set firmly in her hands.

The pair adored this time of day. The early hours in which people would just be arousing from the previous nights sleep. It was a time where they could

evade the hungry gazes of onlookers, starving to fabricate a new romantic endeavor between the pair. And they can freely and simply exist in one another's orbit, where they could just be Percy and Annabeth

The ocean eyed boy glances upwards, taking into account how she has coiled together her prim tresses, into a knot on the top of her head, and the way the white now she is clad in makes her appear as if some sort of angel…And perhaps he would have believed as much if he did not know the truth of her. Of her astonishing intellect, and wicked smirk.

"Good morning to you to," is all Percy speaks in response.

"Perseus have you become hard of hearing?" Annabeth nudges the boy playfully on the shoulder, not noticing the effect it had on him hearing her using his Christian name, despite how it's been a year sense the first instance.

"No, I have not." Percy states rather matter of factly, his gaze never straying from the text in his hands. "I just do not see the pertinence behind your words. After all, I quite enjoy the company of Mr. Di Angelo and his sister."

"Yes, so do I." Annabeth agrees with a wave of the hand. "But I meant it in a more suggestive matter," she snickers, causing a flush to blaze the boy's cheeks.

"I never took you for much of a rumormonger Annabeth." Percy scowls.

"It is no fraudulent whisper if it is true Perseus," she leers with that pixilated glint that Percy finds ever so entrancing. "Besides, it is not as if it is the most shocking development. My word Percy, I mean _you are_ able to be beguiling in your own right, if you wish to. And it is not as if you are the most hideous being to have ever stepped foot on British grounds, even though you are Welsh."

It appears as if today is the day Annabeth wishes to embarrass Percy to death.

Desperately desiring a shift in conversation, Percy's gaze glosses over all his surroundings, needing to find something new to discuss.

"Is that Thomas Payne?" He blurts once spotting the face of her novel.

A bit taken aback by the sudden alteration of the topic, Annabeth absently nods her head. "yes, yes it is—Have you heard of him—?"

"Jason tells me that it is all a work of rubbish." Percy admits.

"Jason is a work of rubbish," Annabeth scowls, with the most precious pout on her face.

"May I," Percy smiles down at her while giving a flourish of his hand towards the peace of literature.

Once she hands it over to him, the tips of their fingers sweep across one another, for the briefest moment, but it yet makes his chest palpitate rapidly. However, with a clearing of his throat, Percy pushes aside the sensation washing over him when ever presented with the simplest of contact with Annabeth.

He flips through the pages, only scanning through a few phrases and passages, though he is able to comprehend the general gist of the peace. Plenty of discussion of liberty, and equality.

Soon enough, Percy catches the pattern of fragments written on the edges of more than a few pages. He recognizes the messy scrawl from being illustrated upon a peace of correspondence he had caught Annabeth reading.

"Was this a gift from Luke?" He inquires, not expecting his own words to be coded in layers of ice and silver, and interwoven with the slightest amount of animosity.

"How did-"

"I saw the notes he left in the margins." He states bluntly while tossing the book back onto the table they sit before.

"My gods Percy, I know your feelings towards Luke are not precisely keen, though you mustn't act so unfavorably by the mere mention of his name." Annabeth scolds while resting her hand on to the gift by Luke, as if it were a comfort. And Percy must admit that the sentiment makes him sick.

Percy bores his gaze directly into Annabeth's, longing for her to comprehend why he lacks a warmth towards Mr. Castellan. But his heart sinks once finding his beseechings to be answered by nothing more than a blink of confusion.

"Do you intend on joining in matrimony with Mr. Castellan," he very nearly spits, and it is as if Percy can feel the taut muscles of his neck and forearm become all the more rigid.

"I…I am not sure-" She stammers out. Percy would have been amused by the slight waiver of her ordinary composure, if a sudden chillness had not just prickled his very soul. "What kind of question is that anyhow?"

After a moment of gaping into one another's cold stares, Annabeth rises from her seat.

"I ought to be getting home, my mother expects me to join her for High Tea at the Dare residence." Her words are hallow, and Percy can practically see the color draining from her sun kissed complexion.

Percy does not make a move to stop her departure, so with a quick collection of her elaborate skirts, Annabeth scrambles out the room.

Percy idly wonders if she also feels as if a portion of her chest has been carved out.

He doubts it.

The night is one of lassitude.

The sky is cloaked with an unnerving shroud of darkness, as the rain pelts down relentlessly pressing onto the shadows and crooks of the city.

Percy finds himself thankful that his beloved steed, Blackjack, is indifferent to the harsh whether.

Mirroring every night for the past week, Percy rides throughout the city, as he attempts to escape his thoughts an memories, most of which concerning _her_. He has yet to speak to Annabeth sense their spat in the church's library, and he is ashamed to admit that it is primarily his doing. The blonde had persisted on a myriad of occasions to speak to him. To fall back into the familiar rhythm that they have become ever so accustomed with in the passing year.

But he could not.

He could not pretend as if it did not pain him to look at her, to bask in the effulgence of her brilliant grin, or join in the laughter for what ever subject holds their interest for that particular hour…All while being aware to her true devotions to one Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he had always known…Some minuscule peace of his being he had tucked away into the deepest crevasses of his chest. but having it confirmed in such a manner pained him in ways indescribable by words…As if she had plucked his yet beating chest, and fed it to her savage beasts, with a smirk splayed across her stunning features all the while.

Blackjack only slows down once Percy catches something in the shadows.

Perhaps he should continue on his way, so to make it back to his home by daybreak…But it is as if his soul pushed against his physical form, demanding for him to follow his intuition.

And as he comes closer, he catches the familiar glint of silver in the shape of an owl.

As if he no longer could direct his own body, Percy leaps from the horse, instructing it to stay standing, and runs after the silver chain.

He walks into a barn, finding a scene which utterly confused him.

Annabeth, garbed in a simple, navy gown, _so unlike her preference of all things ruffles and lace_ , is knelt over a hunched form of a boy, one with broad shoulders, and a wistful expression glazed over his slackened features.

"Annabeth-" Percy dares to shatter the hush, but he desired answers like never before.

"Percy?" When she looks up, he analyzes her face, ensuring that she is alright. Thankfully, the only aspect of her form which warrants some distress, is the way the rain has completely soaked her as well.

"What are you doing here?" He ponders as he kneels besides her.

"That is what I should be asking you," she bristles, but Percy can easily see through her facade. She is afraid. the great an mighty Annabeth Chase is vulnerable, and Percy wants to do nothing but drape himself over all the wounds pillaging her soul.

"I went for a ride, and caught sight of this," he tells her while clasping his fingers around the locket, the back of his knuckles sweeping across the exposed skin of her neck. An act so mundane, but yet causes shivers to run down his spine.

Though the coldness of the outdoors quickly returns once he hears the next words to fall from her lips.

"It's Luke."

Percy finally lets loose of his grasp on the locket, though immediately regrets it, and yearns to feel the rush of warmth to return. But rather then doing so, he looks downwards at the hunched man lying on a pile of hay, Percy just now realizing that it is the boy he had encountered nearly two years prior.

No longer did he radiate with sunlight and a sense of ease. in fact the man looked quite sickly. His sandy hair matting to his forehead, and a nasty scar running the length of his cheek, which has upturned his once attractive features, into something sinister.

"By the gods…What has happened to him?"

Without a word, Annabeth pulls out a powdery substance from the man's coat pocket. Percy immediate recognized the silvery matter to being opium, back when he had been considered a child of poverty, he had witnessed a plentiful of street wanderers lost under it's spell. It was truly a pitiful sight, intoxicating themselves to forget their woes,and to explore the figment of their imaginations.

"A few months prior, Luke had encountered me on the bench overlooking the largest park of the city," she tells Percy, starting to become lost in her reveries. "He had declared his undying love for me… and then preceded to act a bit rough…"

With a startling panic, Percy understands to what her words are alluding to. And at that precise moment, the boy wants nothing more but to smash Luke Castellan's head into a slap of the hardest stone he could find. Or perhaps trample him with the force of a hundred stallions.

"Don't," Annabeth warns him with a steady voice, obviously aware to where his thoughts have wandered to. "I could take care of myself Perseus."

"If he hurt you," Percy growls. _but o he could not have. He would have known. He and Annabeth share everything_ …But apparently not…Percy realizes once looking back down at the pathetic sight of an unconscious Luke Castellan.

'He did not," she avows. "But I knew he was not his self…So I followed him one night, and found that he had been frequenting a local brothel…For the last year or so, he has been poisoning himself, and gabbling away his families fortunes. And no matter how harshly I speak to him regarding the act, he just pushes me aside." Her voice begins to quiver, and her hand moves to a bruise on her left wrist that Percy had not take account of from before. "He just keeps speaking of new beginnings, and how nothing truly matters."

Percy is disgusted, _how could this man be so abrasively cruel to a woman whom obviously loves him ever so greatly…Especially when it is one as brilliant, and remarkable as Annabeth Chase_.

"Come on," he gently caresses her swollen wrist.. "I'll instruct one of the help and have them come fetch Mr. Castellan later on."

She strays her dark irises to his own, and Percy's hart breaks a little more at the obvious exhaustion clinging to her very form. "Promise?'

"I swear to you with an oath that I will keep until my final breath," he raises his palm too reside upon his chest. "Annabeth Chase, i will do all that is within my power to help."

Tentatively, Annabeth takes grass of the hand he has offered out for her, and the begin their retreat from the sorrowful barn.

Both were thankful when finding that the occupants of Percy's manner yet appeared to be fast asleep, as they walked up to his chambers.

"I felt as if it was partly my doing…His unraveling I mean." Annabeth explains as she accepts the wet cloth Percy had fetched her,.

"Allow me," he insists as he gently scrapes away the dirt which cascades across her oval shaped face.

Percy could not but help marveling at her exquisite beauty, each detail appearing harshly striking beneath the cloak of nightfall. And he can barely breathe once watching as the moon's luster reflects her grey irises, creating a prism of insecurities gleaming into his own.

"Why in heaven's name could the consequences of his foolish choices be your doing?" Percy scoffs with indignation, yet angered at himself for not noticing the hardship his closest friend has gone through for the past months.

"I believe Luke had come accustomed to my dutiful nature…Always willing to spend my days at his side, and listen on as he regales me with all the stupendous tales he had so effortlessly strung together." She explains. "He had always been so daftly partial to the world he had conjured up in the crooks of his mind, than the reality of his existence."

Percy snarls, yet despising all that Luke stood for…A handsome wealthy boy, whom always desired more. _Perhaps he deserved the state he has found himself in._

As soon as he thought it, Percy shook the curse away. He had made a vow to Annabeth, and that is something he does not take lightly. So he will toss aside all the disgust he may hold for Luke Castellan, and rather will assist the man with all the resources at his disposal.

"I have yet to make the connection to how you had any hand in his senseless decisions." Percy informs her, while setting down the cleaning utensil.

"Well perhaps if I had not become so distracted," she left the final word to hang in the air. Obviously intending for Percy to understand what she was alluding towards.

"Distracted? By what? A life that you have the right to live?" He nearly shouts.

"My gods Percy are you truly this dense!" She exclaims.

Percy's eyes widen in shock, but before he could question her to what she means, he feels the grasping of his lapels, and her lips slanting against his own. It was desperate, and pleading , but it was remarkable. It felt as if all that surrounded them dissolved, and all that existed was the sensation of her mouth against his own, and his arms encircling her petite waste.

"W-What," Percy spotters out once they part.

"You mustn't be shocked?" Annabeth laughs incredulously.

"But why?"

"I would assume that a smart lad such as yourself could peace together why a lady of my fine caliber would wish to embrace you in such a matter." She chortles, and Percy swears that she is the most astounding being he has ever witnessed in all his sixteen years.

"I think I may be in love with you," he divulges, indifferent to it perhaps not being the correct line of speech at this precise moment…But he does not care.

He is in love with her. He is in love with the way she sashays into a room, demanding all the attention being focussed upon her with nothing more than her simple grace. he is in love with the mellifluous ringing to his ears when ever she speaks in her effervescent timber synonymous with her chortles of mirth. He is in love with the crease between her brows whenever she is contemplating a topic, which she finds particularly intriguing.

He is in love with her, and he aches for her to comprehend how greatly he does.

A pregnant silence falls between the pair. Percy can feel the pang against his chest, convinced that he had spoken to much to quickly. He had ruined what they had, before it even begun, all do to his excitement over the prospect of finally being able to hold her without worry of it being improper.

Just as he parts his lips to apologize he feels her press against his mouth once more, and it is as if in that kiss they have lay claimed to one another. He is as much her's,as she is his. They have intertwined so utterly, that neither could make out where one began, and the other ended.

"I love you Perseus," she speaks as if swearing on everything she holds dear.

The months following that night are lost in a haze of euphoria. Days composed of clandestine whispers shared beneath the fondling beams of the summer sun , and tender kisses pressed upon exposed skin within the depths of night fall.

Percy swears that it is the singular moment of time where he had truly experienced what it meant to be happy.

"I swear to you it's true," Annabeth snickers, her dandy hand interlocked with her boyfriend's larger one.

They amble around the bustling streets of midday London. A buoyancy clings to the air, as the ordinary pitter pat of horse hooves hit the ground, and pedestrians exchange chatter of their days. It was the eye of the storm which will surely come about once the war against the colonists inedibly begins.

Though for now, a precarious sort of calm blankets the entirety of the country, and the civilians wish to fall under it's blissful spell.

"Why would Chris degrade himself in such a matter," Percy guffaws in shock.

"Oh come now Percy, Mis. La Rue is quite pleasant if she is fond of you," Annabeth persists.

"Whatever you say my love," Percy sighs playfully, a grin plastered to his angular features. Though Percy supposes that it had never dropped sense the official start of the romantic aspect of their relationship.

"Speaking of ridiculous developments," Percy starts. "I hear that Sir Stoll has propositioned you to join him on his voyage to the colonies."

Annabeth perks, obviously shocked to his proclamation. "How on earth did you…"

"Lady Dare has looser lips than one would first think," Percy chuckles. "Though it does make me question why you had not been the one to inform me."

"Do you mean other than it's frivolity, and the convenient fat that I have already given my heart to another?" Annabeth laughs, a slight flush tinting her cheeks. However, Percy suspects her withholding of the information may be due to something more than she would even admit to herself.

The dark haired teen had always suspected that Luke's disbandment as a respectable gentlemen, had not only spoiled Annabeth's first romantic experience, but also destroyed her illusions of the new colonies.

Percy supposes he knows Annabeth better than most, and he is well aware to her desire to build a new land. A place where one's intellect was seen far before the legacy of their surname. A place where she can design buildings which would stand for eons after today…

But now the concept must seem hopeless.

"I am sorry that you can not fulfill your desire to create a city of your own." Percy is not sure why he says it, or if she will even understand the meaning behind his words. But it seems like the right decision when she grants him the smallest grin, and softly touches her gloved fingers onto his chin.

"You are far more than enough for me Perseus," she assures him while pecking his lips affectionately.

A conglomeration of fervent declarations of loyalty to the throne, and a chorus of ineffable cackles, paints the ambience of the lively tavern.

Sitting there, atop the bar stool, Percy can sense it, A expanding bubble of anticipation and jubilation growing more as the days pass, and the rumblings of the war garnering truly substantive discourse.

Though the young man pays the vitality no mind, rather his attentions are focused upon the blank stationary lying before him, awaiting for his writings to adorn it's face. With an exhale of breath, Percy wishes that he had been presented the talents of Sir Solace, so that he could properly illustrate the intricate pros, and alluring metaphors that a letter to Annabeth should be embellished with.

Eventually deciding that moping will neither make it so Annabeth returns from Paris earlier, nor will it assist in rousing him from his stupor, Percy moves towards the tender so to order himself another beverage. Though, he hauls his actions once catching sight of a familiar head of pale hair.

"Jason," he grins in greeting while patting his long time friend on the back. "I hadn't even been notified of your return." With a slight delay, the gentlemen shifts his attention on to Percy, the cyan shell of his irises appearing as if they may shatter at any moment. "Are you alright you do not look quite there mate."

"I'm fine Perseus!" Jason declares with a slurring of his words. "Join me!" He enthusiastically declares while patting the seat besides him.

"And what am I joining you for?" Percy hikes his brows at the sight of the ordinarily reserved Jason Grace, drinking his weight in alcohol.

"Why celebrating my matrimony, what else?" He takes another swig from his tumblr.

"I hadn't even been aware that you were even betrothed," Percy discloses, a bit bashfully.

"Neither did I," Jason cackles in a manner which makes Percy's blood run cold. "I foolishly thought that I could escape my father's overbearing nature…I thought that I could run off to America and spend the rest of my days, happy and in love."

"You were in love with an American!" Percy's mouth hangs agape, completely unable to picture the youngest Grace child acting so frivolous. As if he were his elder sister.

"Her name was Piper," Jason speaks a bit wistfully, his lips curving against his will at the thought of the girl. "She was a native. I had first encountered her about two years earlier…I knew she was my salvation from this pitiful world from our first meeting."

"What stopped you?"

"My father," Jason snarls with malice. "I had joined him to collect some information about our farmland in Virginia a week ago. But when I had stepped into the grounds of her tribe, I found a holocaust…Hundreds of slaughtered bodies strewn across the land—" His voice quakes, and Percy spots the tears brimming his skies of blue, His heart sinking at the sight.

"I couldn't stay," he divulges with a sob. "I could not allow myself to observe her cold, still body, and know that she would never again lift her lids." Percy speaks no words, well aware that sometimes the most profound assistance one can give, is their mere presence. So he wraps an arm around his friend's shoulder, and listens to his choked out wales.

"It was his doing!" He cries. "I do not know how, but I swear to you my father had a hand in this massacre!"

As Percy comforts his friend, he finds himself questioning for the first time whether love is worth the utter heartbreak it leaves in it's wake, especially if it were someone whom had nothing to fall back on.

Disregarding his father's wealth, the Jackson name is yet a fresh member of the elite class…Poseidon Jackson does not withhold the same sway that other noblemen may pertain.

So the day following his comforting Jason Grace, Percy receives a letter instructing that a healthy, young man, such as himself, must volunteer for the king's Calvary, their voyage to the colonies will take off on daybreak, a week from morrow.

As he analyzes the words on the page, he comes to a decision. He would not allow Annabeth to be bound by him. She is a lustrous star, whom's glory deserves to burn onto something far more vital than the mundane woes of a house wife.

She deserves the world planted at her feet…And if he could not grant her that, he will give her the opportunity to build a world of her own.

 _My Dearest Annabeth,_

 _I hope that you find your days treating you well in Paris. Though I hear that times are rather contentious with the prospect of a revolution, I only hope that your father can talk reason to them._

 _I find myself doing well, though something has been gnawing at my consciousness. I can no longer secure a secret that I have been holding for the past months sense your departure…_

 _I have found myself entangled with another…One Lady Calypso Titan._

 _She had propositioned me on numerous occasions throughout the years, though I am rueful to confess that in recent days, I have taken her up on her proposition…and have even shared with her amorous moments on countless occasions sense the first._

 _I can only hope that we can remain cordial throughout our correspondence. Though in your good fortune, it appears that I have been deployed to fight in the honor of our homeland…_

 _Forever Your Obedient Servant_

 _~Perseus Jackson_

The early morning was patched together with rainfall and anguish. It appears as if that now that the voyage is standing directly in front of the young men, the prospect of a war has been stripped of all it's appeal.

Percy gives a shake of his head. He had already given his farewells to his parents, and all his dearest acquaintances…He has accepted his fate long ago.

Though the young man is well aware that the aching of his chest has nothing to do with the future bloodshed, and everything to do with one particular golden haired vixen. One whom yet enraptures his every thought.

Percy is yet content with the choice he had made, because Annabeth Chase deserves all the blessings of livelihood, and he knows that the only opportunity of her finding true joy is escaping with Sir Stoll to the colonies, and assisting in the construction of a new world. One adorned with her stupendous statues, and blessed with her sagacious input.

Though it does not assist in relieving him of the longing to lose himself in her tender embrace.

"This way boy," A broad chested man thrusts Percy out of his memories, instructing him towards the ship he is meant to aboard.

As the jade eyed teenager walks towards his future, he catches the calling of his name, by an alluring voice he had not expected to hear directed towards him ever again.

"Annabeth," he breathes out, frozen to his spot.

She finally reaches him, completely apathetic to the soiling of her skirts.

"I hate you!" She cries. "You take me for a fool! Is that it!" Percy is befuddled, and unable to string together a coherent sentence. "I know you Perseus Jackson!" She yells into the hush. "You would never commit such an act! And the only reason I could think of your deciding to fabricate such a thing is due to Sir Stoll's proposition."

His features drop in defeat, well aware to his inability to speak a falsehood to her face. "You deserve so much more than what I could offer Annabeth. And Stoll is actually able to grant you that opportunity."

"You stupid, stupid boy!" She screeches as she pounds her dandy fist against his hard chest. "How dare you decide this without me!"

He allows her to continue pounding against him, anything for the little contact that they have left.

"I'm sorry Annabeth," he whispers into her ear, as she rests her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and begins to sob. "I will love you for all your tomorrows," he swears.

And as a beam of light pierces through the fog, and drenches a sensation of warmth upon the pair, he thinks that perhaps in another life, _another world of possibilities,_ they would find one another's souls once more.

He could give her all he can. And it would be enough.


End file.
